


dark silence with bright music

by OllieOllieOxenfree (BeauBrummellBaby)



Series: through the long night - Weekman [3]
Category: Bandom, Falling in Reverse, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Dallon being insecure, M/M, Miscommunication, Spencer being supportive, Too Weird To Live Too Rare To Die Era, angst with hopeful ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25494217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeauBrummellBaby/pseuds/OllieOllieOxenfree
Summary: Ryan goes to see Panic! at the Disco on a night off, but Dallon has changed and not in a good way.
Relationships: Ryan Seaman/Dallon Weekes
Series: through the long night - Weekman [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844041
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	dark silence with bright music

**Author's Note:**

> I am back with more suffering
> 
> Recommended listening for this one: Far Too Young to Die (Panic! version). Idk why I prefer the Panic! version over the Brobecks version I just do. Might also suggest Bleed Magic by iDKHOW.
> 
> Also, I played with the timeline a little. I'm aware Spencer was no longer touring in 2013, I just wanted him around for this one.

Ryan fidgets with his backstage pass while Zack stares him down. He feels dwarfed, not just because Zack is built like a mountain, but because he's giving off the strong impression that he doesn't want Ryan there. Like Ryan is some new boyfriend about to be given a shovel talk. Really, it should be the other way around. Dallon is his, and if Zack or Brendon or anyone else tries to hurt him, Ryan should be the one making them pay. Silently, he fumes over this natural order of things being inverted.

Zack knocks on the door behind him. "Y'all better be decent in there," he barks before opening it just a crack.

"Never!" A voice, probably Brendon, shouts back.

"He's wearing pants, if that's what you mean," calls another voice, which Ryan is pretty sure is Spencer. Spencer's voice suits him, sweet and boyish and a little rough around the edges. Like Dallon but without the slight drawl that makes Ryan's knees weak.

"You guys have a visitor. Spencer? I think this guy's yours?"

Spencer comes to the door and opens it fully. "He's Dallon's, actually, I just brought him here as a surprise. Thanks Zack."

Zack shrugs and leers at Ryan one last time before Spencer brings him in.

"Thanks again for the backstage pass, man," Ryan sputters.

"No problem man," Spencer echoes. "You seem cool, and if Dallon trusts you then I do too."

"Dallon talks about me?"

Spencer doesn't answer, just yells into the room. "Dally!"

Dallon doesn't look up at first from where he’s sitting in the corner, engrossed in a book. He just yells back, matching Spencer's tone without even moving his eyes. "Sodapop!"

"Look up, idiot."

Ryan waves, like some kind of dumbass. "Hey."

Dallon looks up with wide eyes, and fuck if that isn’t the prettiest thing Ryan’s seen in years. He looks damn good with his hair pushed back, tight clothes, is he wearing eyeliner, or were his eyes always that piercing ice blue? Damn. “Ryan,” Dallon gasps, so different and yet so familiar. It sounds an awful lot like the way he said it four years ago, the day they- nope. Not going there right now.

Spencer clears his throat, and there’s the hint of a smirk behind the hand that he’s brought up to cover his fake cough. Bastard. “Hey Dallon, B and I were gonna go out sight-seeing. I’d invite you, but you know how sight-seeing usually means drinking. You’re welcome to come along if you’d like, but…” He lets his voice trail off before angling his head toward Ryan a little. “I know you like to make the most of your hotel nights.” Ryan knows drummers aren’t subtle by nature, but Jesus H., dude, why not just give Dallon a box of condoms and smack his ass before walking away? At least that might be a little less mortifying.

On second thought he’s not sure he wants to see Spencer smacking Dallon’s ass. Chill as he seems, Ryan does not know the guy well enough yet to trust him like that. Spencer starts to walk away, but Dallon calls out to him. “Spence!” Spencer stops and turns around a little. “Stay safe, okay? Check in with me and Linda later?”

Spencer gives Dallon a weak thumbs-up before continuing to walk away.

Dallon pulls a knee into his chest as Ryan sits down on the couch next to him. "I really hope Spencer doesn't drink tonight. He's been having a really rough time these last few years."

"Really?" Ryan asks, and feels kind of like an idiot.

He nods gravely. "Strictly between you and me, I don't think he'd still be alive without Linda. His girlfriend. This is gonna be his last tour. Brendon's already found his replacement."

"Didn't you have any say in it? You're a part of the band too."

Dallon laughs as he stands up, a kind of sick sarcastic snort that hurts Ryan to hear. He sits back down on a table in the middle of the room. "There is no band, Ryan. Hasn't been since before I got here. It's just Brendon."

Ryan stands up. With Dallon sitting on the table, they're eye to eye. "That's not right," he says, stepping closer. He lays a hand on Dallon's thigh, a gesture he means as friendly, but he can't help but notice that Dallon spreads his legs a little. He steps forward again so that he's standing between the taller man's knees. "Can I tell you how weird it was to stand in the audience and hear your words come out of someone else's mouth?"

Dallon's hands creep forward to hook his fingers into Ryan's belt loops. "I didn't think anyone would notice." He's not pulling or pushing, just holding him in place.

"I'll always know your lyrics, Dal. I just wish you were still the one singing them." He lets both his hands slowly trace up to Dallon's shoulders, and he's in dangerous territory already, but then he feels Dallon hook his ankles together behind his legs and he knows the point of no return has already been passed. What the hell. "It was also hard for me to watch the way he touches you," Ryan murmurs. "Wishing it was me who got to kiss you like that."

"Ryan," Dallon's voice is halfway between a growl and a whimper, "pretty little thing, it's just a job. He doesn't get to kiss me the way you did." His ankles hook together tighter as he gives a sharp tug on Ryan's belt loops, leaving them only inches apart. "The way you do right now."

This wasn't at all how he planned the evening going. But he's only human. So he clings to Dallon like Icarus to Apollo and lets his resolve melt into Dallon's mouth.

Dallon moans, a sound that Ryan is technically used to, but has never heard from anywhere other than behind his kit. He threads his fingers into Dallon's hair and tugs, hoping to hear it again. Dallon's hands drift further forward, coming down to grab his ass firmly, possessively. But it doesn't seem to be enough. One hand comes back up to grab the lapel of his leather jacket, and suddenly Ryan is on the table with Dallon spread out beneath him.

A small part of Ryan almost worries that the table won't support both their weight. Another small part is sure that there's no piece of furniture in this room that wasn't designed to allow fucking on. Mostly, he's just preoccupied with kissing the marble column of Dallon's throat, like he can erase Brendon's touch and leave a sign there that says "back off, poser". Dallon is all but nominally his. No one else gets to touch him like this. Judging by how hard the bulge pressing into Ryan's hip is already, nobody has in a while.

"Ryan," Dallon whines, his hips angling up to press his ass against Ryan's dick, "please."

"What do you need, sweetheart?"

He groans again, maybe a little in response to the petname and a little bit in frustration. "Fuck me. Please. I know there's lube and condoms stashed around here somewhere."

"Oh." If Ryan wasn't already on his elbows and knees, that's what would have made him collapse. Dallon unhooks his ankles and pushes him back, pushing his leather jacket halfway off his shoulders in the process. He buzzes internally as he looks around the room for the most logical place that something like that would be hidden. While his usual fantasies over the last couple years have been the reverse, having Dallon spread out and begging for him is far too tempting. Once he locates the necessary objects, he turns to see his gentle giant still laying back on the table, but with a hand pushed into his open fly, gently gasping as he grinds against it. Ryan unbuttons his own pants before crawling atop him once again.

“Ryan!” Those little gasps are now coming out almost as sobs, now that Ryan has pushed the hand away and replaced it with his own. He’s set down the lube and condom somewhere on the table where he knows he’ll be able to reach it. For now he just needs to touch Dallon, kissing his chest and shoulder up to his neck up finally to his face. Dallon’s stubble burns him a little, and he groans at the painful friction.

As Ryan drops his head into the crook of Dallon’s neck, he’s distantly aware of lips on his cheek and jaw. Pieces start to click together. This is nothing like that first kiss years ago, nothing like any other encounter they’ve had together. These kisses are sloppy and desperate and not like Dallon at all, more like a sick parody of him. “Dal,” he moves his hand away, feels Dallon’s whine where their chests are pressed together, “Dal, what are we doing?”

Understandably, Dallon sounds a little annoyed. “We’re fucking, Ryan. Or we should be.”

“No, we shouldn’t.” Ryan sighs, shutting his eyes tight for a few seconds before propping himself up on both elbows. “This isn’t right, Dal. This isn’t what either of us really want.”

“How do you know?” Dallon fumes, tugging at Ryan’s hips again. Ryan refuses to move. He knows that Dallon is way stronger than he looks, that he probably could overpower him quite easily, but that he must be holding back. “How do you know what I want?”

“Because I’m your friend.” God, Dallon’s not making this easy. “And I know when you’re hurting. You only want me right now because you’re angry. Because you want to do something stupid, like fucking me before you’re ready to.”

“Don’t you want me?” His voice is starting to get choked off. Fuck, he looks so vulnerable that Ryan knows he’s either making the best or worst possible decision he can make. The die has been cast, and it’s either a one or a six. He measures his next words as carefully as he can.

“Dallon, I want you so much that I can’t have you. Not like this.” If he stays in this position, he’ll be sucked back into Dallon’s charm and won’t be able to resist. So he pushes off the table and tries hard to stand. "I'm sorry. But it isn't right."

"I know it isn't," Dallon fumes as he sits up, reaching out weakly for Ryan. He already looks thoroughly debauched, and it's taking all of Ryan's willpower to not just say fuck it and climb back on top of him. "Goddammit Ryan, I'm sick of doing the right thing. Of holding back. Of being some responsible mother hen. Can't you just let me be irresponsible this one time?"

"This isn't you." Ryan tries to keep his voice level, but internally, he's horrified. "And I'm not going to be your mistake. If you want someone to fuck you out of your head for a night, go ahead and find someone. But it won't be me. Not tonight."

"I don't want anyone else," Dallon finally admits, his voice small. Two tears track eyeliner down his face, leaving faint grey spots on his cheekbones. "I want you."

Ryan zips up and buttons his pants. "If you want me, then wait."

He's almost to the door when Dallon unloads his last ammunition, in a half scream half sob. "Why did you even come here tonight?"

Ryan freezes, turning back to lay his hands on Dallon's shoulders. "The same reason you kissed me years ago. A promise that I'll be here for you when the time is right." Fuck caution, he decides, moving his hands to frame Dallon's face. He presses a long, slow, deliberate kiss to the center of his forehead as he feels Dallon shake and begin to sob in earnest. "What we have is worth waiting for," he whispers into the skin. "Let's not ruin it."

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to think that after Ryan leaves, Dallon calls Spencer and they stay up eating ice cream and watching bad movies in their hotel room.


End file.
